Horace Dunn paled on that one. "How do you know that?" he said. He sounded a lot more dangerous.
"Too polite," I sneered. "And it ill becomes you. What's going on?"
"So I level," Horace conceded. "So I'm not from the Grievance Committee, and I'm not all hot that Maragon defended Keys Crescas."
"Much better," I said, sitting down again.
"This guy Passarelli is coming up for re-election shortly," our caller said. A light began to dawn. "We're making sure he doesn't make it—and that our man does."
My laugh was more a bark. "He can't find Mary Hall," I told Renner.
Horace's lower jaw shot out at me. "I don't like guys who know what I'm thinking!" he snapped.
I had to laugh in his face. "Who needs TP? You want to tar Passarelli with the brush of Psi—and this hallucinator would be Exhibit 'A'."
He subsided. "So I can't find her. What then?"
I shook my head. "You say it," I suggested. "Too early to have to wash my mouth with soap."